


Me, You, and Katsu92

by katsudonfemmefatale



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Canon Related, Canon Relationships, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Online Dating, Online Friendship, Online Relationship, Online Romance, Phone Sex, Pre-Canon, Sad Katsuki Yuuri, Sad Victor Nikiforov, Sexting, Skype, Smut, Video Cameras, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, Webcams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 00:18:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11978133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsudonfemmefatale/pseuds/katsudonfemmefatale
Summary: Viktor thinks he may have finally found someone to ease the loneliness in his heart, the ache that Chris has been unable to fulfil... but how can you have a relationship without even knowing someone's name? GoldSkate88 thinks he may have finally found someone to fill that void in Katsu92, but when he meets Yuuri Katsuki, it changes everything.





	Me, You, and Katsu92

**Author's Note:**

> GOMEN! I disappeared for the longest time, but I have risen from the dead just to give you something that I've been working on. 
> 
> I wrote "GoldSkate88 Has Logged In" NINE months ago and lots of people in the comments asked me for a follow-up. I haven't precisely given you that (sorry), but instead I thought it would be interesting to go back and revisit it from Viktor's point of view... which includes the whole missing banquet ;)
> 
> So, if you haven't read my previous one... go read it if you want to, but in my opinion, this stands alone as well :)
> 
> To anyone that held out and had already read the previous part so long ago, thank you for bearing with me! Please inform me of any incorrect mistranslations!
> 
> You can also still find me over on tumblr as katsudonfemmefatale.tumblr.com :D
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

_Leaves skittered across the path restlessly, and the cold bit at his wet lashes and made his eyes sting. He stared straight forward, face undiscerning, and clung to the bundle of fur in front of him. He knew that attempting to concentrate on anything but his immediate surroundings would be futile right now. The cold was a comfort, the icy air his home. Where could he go from here?_

_Being the top figure skater in the world was an aspiration for so many youngsters in the sport, but holding the title for so long had created a deep-seated unease that had been unanticipated._

_He was lucky. He knew he was. He got to do a job every single day that he loved. It was physically demanding and long, long hours… but skating was his passion. It didn’t matter that he had little social life outside the rink; he had money. He had style. He had a home. He had Makka. But something was missing._

_What_ _was_ _love to Viktor Nikiforov?_

_There were his parents… parental love.  
_ _Makka… unconditional companionship.  
_ _Yakov… paternal love.  
_ _Yuri… brotherly love.  
_ _Skating… his passion._

_There was even dear Christophe, whom he shared a bond with he hadn’t with anyone else. But despite a short tryst last summer, despite both of their wilfulness for it to be so, it was not love.  
_ _He had even sat here in a similar position last year thinking about that, wondering if there was something wrong with him. Viktor knew Christophe and he were perfect for each other. Everyone has been anticipating their relationship, which is exactly why they chose to keep it quiet until they knew. Well, now they knew. They could not force anything more there than what there was.  
They loved each other, but not in the way they needed to. And for that reason, because they cared about each other so, they let one another go. _

_But now…_

_…now there was Yuuri Katsuki._

_Wonderful Yuuri who had danced into his life so unexpectedly.  
_ _Beautiful Yuuri, who he couldn’t get out of his head.  
_ _Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri._

_Viktor had been drawn to him the moment he saw him, and he remembered the moment precisely. He remembered the way his freshly-cut fringe had tickled at his cheek as he leant forward to adjust his boot, the way his neck had snapped up at the gasp of the audience just in time to see Yuuri hit the ice… hard, the tails of his beautiful blue costume jacket throwing up flurries of ice as he slid across it.  
Viktor rarely allowed himself to be part of the audience before a performance, but he found himself drawn in to the unnatural anguish which painted such a stunning face, and waited with baited breath for the dark-haired skater to rise. For a few seconds, Viktor thought he wouldn’t. He watched the back of the man through the television screen rise and fall as he panted, and then, slowly, he rose. Viktor expected him to skate off the rink. Some couldn’t handle a fall that bad, and it was difficult to tell whether he was hurt. But he unfurled himself, he made himself stand, waited a beat, then pushed his body off and continued to dance in perfect timing with the music.   
_ _His form… was stunning. Had Viktor not witnessed him plummet to the ice, he would have never suspected that he had just suffered quite so bad a stumble. The clean lines of this man’s body moving to the music, the angle of his leg as it lifted behind him, almost reaching out to someone following behind… the Russian was entranced._

_“Katsuki… Yuuri” he whispered, reading the name from the bottom of the screen._

_“Vitya, you have been re-lacing that boot for four minutes and you are on the ice in nine! Hurry up!”_

_Yakov’s irate voice in his memory pulled him out of his thoughts.  
This is what he wanted.  
It was what he had been looking for._   
  


* * *

 

  
“The indigo one. Absolutely.” 

“Are you saying that because it’s the same colour as your boxers?”

“These are _plum_ , and they cost more than your tie, darling. Just put it on.”

Viktor pulled the dark silk tie from Christophe’s fingers and slid it around his neck as he watched the Swiss man turn to his own garment bag to retrieve his suit.

“I can’t believe you always leave it so late to dress.”

“That’s because it’s what’s _underneath_ that’s most important and takes the longest to prepare. I dress so late so that later I can make the _undressing_ slow.”

Viktor laughed, grabbing for his glass of champagne on the side as Chris pulled on his finely-pressed trousers with a wink.  
He would never cease to be grateful for Christophe Giacometti. He had helped him through so much; he would laugh with him, joke with him, make him feel less lonely… and on occasion, he had even cried with him, held him, _been_ _with_ him. He made a somewhat lonely sport less lonely, and the challenge of his competition pushed Viktor.   
Chris truly was a phenomenal skater. He exuded energy and passion in a way nobody else did, and were Viktor ever to get too complacent in his abilities, he was sure Chris would be able to take his throne. But there was one thing in general he was more thankful for than anything else: just being his friend.

“Would you two quit whatever you’re doing and hurry up!”

Yakov’s voiced invaded and echoed through the whole room, even through the door, and Chris rolled his eyes as he did up the last buttons on his shirt and grabbed for his jacket.

“Oh, _Vitya_! You have to stop! Daddy says we have to leave!”

Viktor shot daggers at Chris through a look and turned immediately to open the door.

“We’re coming.”

Yakov hmphed and stormed down the hall as Chris approached Viktor from behind and confirmed they were both ready to leave, giving a cursory glance around the room before Chris swallowed down the rest of Viktor’s champagne in one.

“Ready, _dear_?”  
 

* * *

   
Viktor smiled and chatted through several handshakes, as usual. He listened to Yakov’s gripes about other coaches, as usual. He sipped at champagne and smiled politely at female skaters who flirted with him, as usual.   
This year there were two new things to deal with. Firstly, the complaints of young Yuri, who had indignantly thrown on a suit but was making it extremely clear he did not want to be there, and whom Viktor thought was almost certainly Yakov’s younger irritable double. And secondly, the unexpected pang in his heart as he pretended not to see Chris flirting with a tall brunette across the room. 

He tried to turn his mind to his win, the sponsors, the prospects, and ignore what he had failed to discuss with anyone, not even Chris: that he was so incredibly lonely, and right now, it was really hitting him. He was looking for something, but even he wasn’t sure what. All he knew is that he wanted to get rid of the weight that had been pressing on his chest every night for the past year. He wanted to know what a life outside of this… _world_ , this skating world… was.

The truth was that Viktor _had_ been talking to someone. Only recently, he had begun to feel some hope, some escape from the sense of being caged that had been constricting him.  
It was silly, but there was this forum… this skating forum, where he was anonymous. And he had met someone there. Someone who seemed to share his opinions, someone so funny, so like-minded, who poured his heart out to him and to whom he could pour his heart out too as well. Viktor felt like he knew him, inside and out, but the truth was… he didn’t even know his name. All he knew him as was Katsu92.  
They seemed to connect on every level, and Viktor had felt his heart bloom whenever they conversed, in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a while. Every time he seemed to open up to someone like this, they eventually left him, and he went back to feeling the same way as before.  
And then Viktor had evidently gotten too close, and the inevitable happened. He was going to Skate America and suggested that they meet, and had been turned down. And now, just before the final, they had said they wouldn’t be able to speak for a while at all. Viktor had begun to wake up to speak to him, the last thing Viktor wanted at night was to speak to him, and now… this person he barely even begun to know, was slipping through his fingers. 

He looked briefly up from his glass, which he now realised he had been staring down at for some time, and caught a pair of eyes across the room. But as soon as eyes met, the other man turned his gaze shyly. It took Viktor a moment to place him through scruffy black hair, blue-rimmed glasses and an ill-fitting suit, but then he recognised Katsuki Yuuri. Alone and shy at his first Grand Prix banquet.  
Viktor felt his foot involuntarily take a step forward, but then young fingers were grabbing his bicep and twisting him and he found himself staring down at the infuriated face of Yuri Plisetsky, his blond hair hiding half his face.  
 

* * *

   
His hesitation had passed. Viktor had moved from champagne to vodka at some point during the course of the evening, and for a while now (he wasn’t sure how long) had found himself engaged in a long and thoroughly amusing conversation with Mila. They were sat in the hallway outside the banquet room, where both music and conversation had reached peak volume levels, laughing until Viktor noticed Mila’s eyes go wide at a sight over his shoulder, and a devilish grin spread across her face. 

Viktor turned, but by that time the object of Mila’s gaze had caught up to them and was attempting to rush past. It was Christophe, rushed, carrying a rather large grey bag, his suit jacket gone, and his shirt wide open and untucked.  
Viktor barely had time to ask what the hell was going on, when his friend was suddenly trying to tug him up from his seat and usher him through the banquet doors. 

“That Japanese skater is _wasted_ and has the _best_ moves! Did you notice he was hot before? I never even recognised him! Anyway you have to see this…” 

Viktor followed Christophe into the room with Mila to whoops and cheers for the man taking centre stage on the dancefloor. His hair was tousled, his shirt sleeves rolled up, glasses forgotten on a table somewhere, his tie loosened and shirt untucked, with several buttons open.  
This _couldn’t_ be the same guy from earlier, Viktor thought. But then he remembered seeing Yuuri on the ice; how he had suffered so terrible a fall and picked himself up and continued with more grace than he had ever seen. Sure, he made mistakes, but the way he moved his body as if it were one with the music had drawn Viktor in entirely, and it was no different now.  
Suddenly, everything was entirely too hot. Viktor instinctually pulled at his shirt collar, searching desperately for air, then noticed the condensation on the side of the glass he was still clutching as if a reminder, and he tipped the rest of the clear liquid back down his throat.  
Chris scurried off to the back of the room somewhere, and Katsuki Yuuri turned around, his eyes gaping as he caught sight of the frowning Yuri Plisetsky. Viktor felt an immediate need to tell the older Yuuri not to worry, that the teenager’s face always looked like that, but before he could say anything, Yuuri the older was pointing a finger into Plisetsky’s chest, a smarmy smile spread across his face. 

_“_ _誰が今敗者ですか_ _?”_ _  
  
_ The blond’s face twisted in confusion up at the older man who reeked of alcohol, and clearly unaware that he had slipped into his native tongue. His fingers pointed hard into the teen’s chest as he enunciated clearly:   
  
“ _Ba…ka!”_ _  
  
_ That word Plisetsky did know, and his frown curled up into a challenging grin.   
  
“Oh, yeah?”   
  
He pulled at his collar, simultaneously loosening his white tie and upper button on his dark blue shirt, as he moved out into the middle of the dancefloor, the space already carved out by the spectators of Katsuki’s antics. And then Yuri Plisetsky began to dance.Viktor couldn’t believe his eyes. He glanced down at his empty glass and did some mental arithmetic… nope, he definitely wasn’t drunk. And yet he had never seen Yuri _dance._ He had seen him skate of course, and he knew he did a little ballet, but he always preferred to keep warm-ups private. But this was neither skating, nor ballet. This was something else entirely.Maybe Katsuki’s seeming challenge had been a bad idea: although Viktor barely knew him, from what he had seen, the Japanese man was all elegance, long, clean lines that waved through his body as if he were one with the music. He certainly couldn’t imagine him doing… _that._  
  
He was wrong.   
  
Katsuki Yuuri ruffled a hand through his sweat-soaked but yet still fluffy hair, waited a beat, then allowed his body to pull him forward to occupy the space next to Yuri. Before any of the other skaters in the banquet hall had a chance to register what was happening, the two Yuri’s were engaged in a full-blown breakdance battle.  
Viktor heard Chris’ familiar voice howl a “ _whooooop!_ ” from somewhere in the crowd, and the Russian grabbed at his pockets, searching for his phone, in a similar action to most of the people around him. He immediately started documenting everything, moving around the crowd like a spectator, snapping photos and videos, entirely caught up in the moment and heedless of the fact that he was not the centre of attention for once.  
The music stopped and both of the younger skaters threw their bodies into dramatic finishing positions as the crowd erupted with cheers and whoops, clapping and jumping and begging for more. Plisetsky turned to face Katsuki, unable to remain stoic in the enjoyment of the moment.   
  
“Loser? _Pfffft._ ”   
  
He stormed away, muttering under his breath.   
  
“Лузер…”   
  
Katsuki put his hand to the back of his head and turned, smiley and sweaty, to the praise of others around him.   
  
And then their eyes met.   
  
Viktor didn’t know it at the time, but he had a stupidly happy smile spread across his face, not quite recovered from what he had just witnessed. When he locked eyes with Yuuri, it deepened into something familiar, even though the two hadn’t even met properly, and he swallowed down at the way Yuuri’s brown eyes sparkled and widened as they realised whose attention they had caught.  
The music was different now; upbeat but still beautifully melodic, and Katsuki Yuuri was marching purposefully toward him. Viktor subconsciously gave a quick glance around at whom he could be walking to, but people had mostly gone back to other conversations, and by the time his gaze re-met the darker-haired man’s, Viktor was seeing Yuuri’s face up-close for the first time. The slight buzz of alcohol settled him somewhere between not being able to greet him, and instead wondering how beautifully smooth his skin was and how much he’d like to be able to touch it, when…   
  
“Will you dance with me, Viktor?”   
  
Viktor was pulled out of his thoughts, once again allowing his eyes to dart around him.   
  
“Me?”   
  
Yuuri’s eyes never left his.   
  
“You.”   
  
And then they danced.   
  
Viktor forgot all eyes were on them, he forgot about the smell of stale champagne on the body in front of him, he forgot about Chris, he forgot about Yuri, he forgot about his win, the sponsors… he forgot about everything except the way the body of the man in his hands moved. How their bodies moved together in rhythm, the way he allowed himself to be lead and pulled in the way the younger man silently demanded.  
Katsuki pulled their bodies close together and moved them like it was the most natural thing in the Universe, and Viktor electrified under the touch of the arm around his waist, the cheek pressed against his, even allowing himself to be twirled around awkwardly by the shorter man. Katsuki dipped him in his arms and Viktor smiled into the motion, his hand on the Japanese man’s back for security, Katsuki’s hand clutching at his thigh for the same reason. And that was exactly how Viktor felt: secure. This man, whom he had only exchanged a few words with, made him feel happy, made him feel safe. How was he doing that?   
  
The music stopped and they remained holding each other. Katsuki’s shirt had opened somewhere along the way, and Viktor swallowed at the realisation that he was clutching at his slim, muscular torso as they stared at each other, not sure what they were waiting for in the moment, and also never wanting to leave.   
  
It was at that moment, of course, that Katsuki was pulled from him in a joking twirl into the arms of another. It was Chris, shirt completely off and eyeing Viktor playfully, one arm now clasped around Yuuri whilst his opposite hand clutched a bottle of champagne.   
  
“My turn, I think?”   
  
It was meant for Viktor, but Katsuki laughed.   
  
“Would you like to dance with me now, love?”   
  
Christophe pulled the man in his arms around to face him.   
  
“Sure!”   
  
“Great!” Christophe replied, and it was at that precise moment that Viktor saw it. He stifled a laugh with his hand as the Swiss lead Katsuki by the hand a few metres away… to a fully-constructed portable pole-dancing pole.  
Viktor laughed, not only because it was so typically _Christophe_ , but because an image flashed in his mind of the nervous and retiring Yuuri from earlier this evening. Sure, he had drunk a bit and started to dance, but there was no way he would…   
  
His thoughts were cut short at the sight of the Japanese man throwing a pair of trousers at a delighted Chris before taking a large swig out of the fresh bottle of champagne, and approaching the pole.   
He reached out for it familiarly, as if having done so before, and clutched it tightly in one hand as the opposite leg extended out and curled around it effortlessly. As if without even acknowledging the movement, his body was twisting upward into the air, his face showing no sign of strain whatsoever. Viktor felt his mouth agape as he watched the Japanese man twist and glide and lift around the metal, noticed the way the muscles in his calves and thighs jutted at the more complicated movements. He quickly closed it and swallowed hard.  
Katsuki was now somehow holding himself upside down on the pole, his thighs grasping firmly around it as his back arched and head faced downward. Chris was pouring champagne into his mouth, and at this moment Viktor noticed that Chris had also shed his lower fabric and was standing in nothing but his tiny briefs and tie.  
Katsuki pulled himself up high into an upright position on the pole, and Viktor marvelled at how someone quite this drunk could have so much control of their body. He may have been the top figure skater in the world, but Viktor certainly couldn’t have done that when so inebriated. He slid down the pole sensually into a split at the bottom, and as he reached the floor, Chris launched himself onto the metal above his head.  
Surprisingly, Viktor had never seen Christophe pole dance, but it looked exactly how he imagined it would. Chris exuded sexuality and sensuality at every turn; when he was dancing, when he was skating, hell, even just walking or in conversation… but, of course, this was on another level. His performance – and it was exactly that, a performance – was so erotic that all faces around the room, male and female, were red. There was a time when this would have driven the Russian crazy, but instead his eyes were fixated on the Japanese man standing nearby, swigging from a bottle of champagne and undoing his shirt buttons as his eyes sparkled, looking up at Chris.  
After a couple of minutes of gyrating around the pole, building sweat enough to make his tanned skin look utterly delicious, Christophe’s gaze turned to Viktor and burned right through him. It was challenging him. Not to join him up there, but to show him that he knew exactly what this would be doing to him. After a split second, Chris’ head snapped toward Katsuki, and he outstretched a hand. Yuuri bounded toward him, and entwined their figures together.  
Chris and Yuuri’s bodies moved symbiotically, each of them showing off, not so much to the people around them, but to each other. Viktor had the sudden sensation of being at a hen party. Either that or watching some obscure mating ritual. He had little doubts of Chris’ intentions, especially when he seemed particularly drunk himself, and he bit down on his lip.Viktor didn’t know what to focus on: the jealous pang of his heart (for whom? He wasn’t sure) … or the tightening sensation of his pants seeming entirely too small.  
Just how exactly was the inconspicuous-looking younger man _doing that?_ Sure, skaters had to be physically fit, but he was actually _holding_ Christophe and himself up simultaneously on the pole! Chris turned himself over and spread his legs wide, lowering himself toward the floor in a kind of upside-down split. Yuuri then pushed his feet down and stood on Christophe’s legs, and the blond passed up a bottle of champagne. Yuuri took one long swig before the music reached a crescendo and promptly poured it over his semi-naked body at the music came to a stop.   
  
By this point in the evening, half of the earlier guests had retreated to their rooms. It was late, and the party had taken a decidedly titillating turn, and so many had slipped out through the doors, red-faced. As silence fell, there were still many blushing and gossiping faces, but the rest of the hall erupted into whoops and cheers… mainly from the women.  
Yuuri let out a nervous and exhausted laugh, swinging down before helping Christophe up from his position. They hugged and laughed as another track started, before Chris started pulling on his trousers and passing Yuuri his shirt. Yuuri put it on reluctantly, then fashioned his tie into a Rambo-style around his head, giving Chris great amusement.   
  
“I _love_ this song!” Yuuri roared.   
  
Viktor watched as he turned toward Chris once more, who was now busy talking with the brunette from earlier in the evening again, still sweating profusely. Katsuki’s head darted around in Viktor’s direction, met his gaze, then began to run toward him. He was stumbling, and Viktor could now see the full effect the alcohol had had on him. Once again his mind turned to disbelief that he had just witnessed him perform with such… _control_.   
  
“ _Viktor!_ Viktor _Niriiikorrof?_ Nirikorof? _Nikiforov!_ You’ll dance with me again, won’t you?!”   
  
Viktor swallowed. He wasn’t sure it was such a good idea. All eyes were now firmly on Katsuki Yuuri, and even though he had danced with him earlier he was now feeling a protective instinct to save the younger man from further embarrassment. Sure, he didn’t think there was anything to be embarrassed of with how he had danced – it was nothing worse than anything Chris had done – but if he continued like this he may end up in a worse state than just a sore head and stunted memory.   
  
“Katsuki, I’m not sure- “   
  
“ _Viktor!”_    
  
Yuuri had thrown his arms around the Russian, clasping him tightly in, his head resting comfortably on his chest. Viktor was so taken aback that he stood, not sure what to do. Yuuri was grinding into him now in what he was sure the darker-haired man thought was a subtle way, but was in fact entirely visible to all around. Chris’ mouth had formed into a delighted “O” at the sight, and the younger Yuri ground his teeth, looking away, mortified at the sight. Viktor himself kept his arms completely straight at his sides, and willed away all thoughts that entered his brain and electrified the lower half of his body.   
  
“After this season ends, my family runs a hot spring resort, so please come.”  
  
 What was he talking about?  
Katsuki Yuuri pulled away slightly and looked up at Viktor, sweat pouring down his face, his eyes wide, his cheeks red, voice so slurred due to the alcohol that he could barely make out the words of their shared second language.   
  
“If I win this dance-off… you’ll become my coach, right?”   
  
Coach?   
  
“ _Be my coach, Viktor!_ ”   
  
Yuuri jumped at him again, throwing his arms around his neck, as Viktor processed what he had just heard. He had no response, he didn’t know what _could_ be said, but his heart flushed with endearment for this entirely wasted, entirely beautiful young man in his arms, begging him to move his life just to be his coach. His cheeks flushed at the proposition.  
For a long moment, all that Viktor could think about was the warmth of the man in his arms. It had been so long since he had held anyone like this, since he had _been_ held like this… but then he came back to reality. People around them were staring. There was no way he could just stay here in silence. He grasped Katsuki’s upper arms and pushed him slightly away from him.   
  
“Katsuki- “  
  
 “- _Yuuri_ ”   
  
“ _Yuuri._ I would love to dance with you, but I think we should save this one for another day. I think what you need right now is some water, and some sleep.”   
  
Yuuri looked offended.   
  
“I don’t need to _sleeeeep_!” He protested, like a child. Viktor laughed, then turned to Chris, noticing the rest of the Japanese man’s clothes in his arms. He took them from him as Chris quirked an eyebrow, and hooked an arm in Yuuri’s.   
  
“Now let’s see if we can find a responsible adult”, he chuckled. “Who’s your coach? Celestino?”   
  
“He leeeeft”, Yuuri moaned, grabbing the near-empty bottle of champagne from the floor before allowing himself to be walked through the gawking crowd by Viktor, his eyes shut in tiredness.   
  
“Okay. Well, I guess I’ll walk you to your door then. We want you to get home safe, don’t we?”   
  
They were now in the hallway walking toward the elevators. Yuuri opened his eyes and looked around, utterly confused, waving his arms and the bottle about.   
  
“This isn’t my home! Well, I don’t really _have_ a home… got a dorm… Phichit… but my family has hot springs”, and then, as if discovering a totally new idea that hadn’t yet presented itself, excitedly shouted, “you should come!”   
  
Viktor laughed and grabbed his arm once more, pushing the elevator button with his free hand.   
  
“That sounds wonderful. One day, maybe.”   
  
There was a loud _DING_ in front of them as metal doors slid open, and Viktor guided the inebriated younger man into the small space. Yuuri grasped at the metal guide rails behind him and allowed his head to fall back on the mirror. Viktor remained silent, not wanting to pull him from his rest lest he wouldn’t be able to recapture it once in his room.  
Viktor instinctually pressed the number for his floor before remembering he was guiding somebody else back, then searched around in Yuuri’s trouser pockets in his arms, finding his key card, the number 1250 etched on to it. He was surprised that they were on the same floor, albeit on opposite ends of such.  
During the silent ride, Viktor allowed himself to study Yuuri. He was much different to what he had anticipated. On the ice he had seen beauty, elegance, grace. Tonight he had seen something completely different. But Viktor knew that both were parts of this wonderful man, that there were sides to him that he had not yet seen, and found himself surprisingly and desperately wanting to.   
  
The doors opened, and this time, Viktor clutched for Yuuri’s hand to pull him from his light slumber. He remembered to take a left out of the elevator instead of heading toward his own room, and followed the corridor further around to the left, Yuuri allowing himself to be lead with only a slight grumble. A smile played on Viktor’s lips. He had never found anyone quite so drunk, someone who was damp with sweat, who stunk of stale champagne, whose glasses were squint on their face and who had a tie knotted ridiculously around their head, quite so… cute.  
They reached the door, and he carefully positioned Yuuri so he was propped up against the frame whilst Viktor slotted the card in and waited a brief moment for the tiny green light to flash. When it did, he opened the door and placed Yuuri’s discarded clothes on the table just inside, before returning to pull him in as well.Yuuri stumbled inside and began chugging the rest of the champagne as Viktor folded his trousers neatly and placed them on the bedside table, before noticing him and leaping forward, grabbing for the bottle.   
  
“No, no, no. Water now.”   
  
Viktor grabbed the bottle from Yuuri’s hands and tried to place it on the TV stand, where it upended whilst Viktor bent to retrieve a bottle of water from the mini bar. He pushed Yuuri gently into a seated position at the end of the bed and placed the water in his hands. Yuuri frowned down at it, adjusting his glasses.   
  
“What does it say?” He asked quizzically, looking down at the unfamiliar Cyrillic on the label.   
  
“Mineral water.”   
  
“Nooooo… what does it say, _really_?”   
  
Viktor was puzzled and quirked an eyebrow at the question. He looked down at the bottle again to make sure he hadn’t accidentally grabbed something else, but нет, это было определенно… ahh.   
  
“минеральная вода?”   
  
Yuuri’s eyes twinkled, his face beaming, and Viktor laughed.   
  
“Say it again!”   
  
“минеральная вода…”   
  
Viktor kneeled down.   
  
“минеральная вода…”   
  
He unscrewed the cap.   
  
“минеральная вода…” **  
  
** He lifted Yuuri’s hands to try and encourage him to drink.   
  
“минеральная вода…”   
  
Yuuri’s hand remained suspended in mid-air as he gawped at the man in front of him. There was silence for a few moments before Viktor said,   
  
“Who’d have thought someone could get so excited over water? Drink.”   
  
Yuuri put the bottle to his lips and began to drink fast; he must have been thirstier than anticipated. Mind you, Viktor was not surprised given the level of alcohol that must be flowing through his blood stream right now.  
Viktor found his heart rate increasing, and unable to keep his eyes off Yuri. His head was tipped back, his eyes closed… and Viktor stared at his lips around the bottle, the lines of his neck, the way his throat moved as he swallowed, and – seeing as Yuuri was occupied momentarily – allowed his gaze to wander the rest of him too. This inconspicuous-looking man was completely, devastatingly attractive up close.  
Yuuri swallowed down the last of the water and his head dropped down, his eyes re-focusing on Viktor, panting to recapture air.   
  
“Now what?” He asked.   
  
“Now…” Viktor said, taking the bottle from his hands and putting it in the bin, “you sleep.”   
  
He leant forward and, trying to keep his breathing as steady as possible, began to undo Yuuri’s shirt buttons. He would be more comfortable without it; it was filthy.   
  
“I don’t want to sleep.”   
  
Viktor had been expecting that response, however he was anticipating it more in the tone of a petulant child being put to bed after a party, and not the flirty undertone Yuuri had given it, allowing his eyes to narrow suggestively.  
He pulled the shirt from his shoulders as quickly as he could, sure not to give any untoward actions that Yuuri could misinterpret, and began to fold it so it could re-join his trousers on the bedside table. It was torture.   
  
“I know, I know. But unfortunately, I get the feeling you’re not going to enjoy tomorrow very much, so going to sleep now is your best bet.”   
  
He tried to heave the man up the bed and onto his side, before unknotting the tie around his head. Yuuri’s eyes were already closed and in a sleepy haze, and Viktor smiled, once again allowing his eyes to roam the length of his body. He tried to photograph it with his mind, intent on keeping the image stored away for as long as his memory would allow.  
He watched as a chill ran through the almost-naked man, and the frown that grew on his face.   
  
“Russia… cold…”   
  
Viktor grabbed at the bundle of sheets and tugged them up and over him, ensuring he was adequately covered.   
  
“Yes, it is.”   
  
“Dunno how… you live here…”   
  
Viktor gently pulled the slanted glasses from the sleepy man’s face and set them on the drawers, next to his clothes. He smiled to himself at the irony of an ice skater complaining about the cold.   
  
“You get used to it.”   
  
Yuuri looked like he was asleep. There was nothing more for Viktor to do here, though he desperately wanted to stay. He wanted to look after him, to make sure he was okay… but he knew it wasn’t a good idea.  
He stood up from the kneeled position he had taken next to Yuuri, and leaned over. Surely just this would be okay? He stretched down and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.   
  
“Goodnight Yuuri Katsuki.”   
  
He began to head for the door when a sleepy voice mumbled after him; 

“愛してる, Vicchan”  
  
Viktor turned at the unfamiliar Japanese, then, on noting that he appeared to have immediately fallen back asleep, continued out the door.  
  


* * *

  
After the Grand Prix, things went back to normal. Well, normal for Victor. He woke up, he ate, he went to practice. He showered, he ran errands, he came home. He walked Makka, he ate dinner, he read the news. Another competition down. Other ones forthcoming, and he knew that he would likely win those, too. Normal. What else was there?  
He had found it difficult to get Yuuri Katsuki out of his head, and he felt silly. This was one skater, one not particularly amazing skater, out of a sea of them that he knew. He knew several guys more _conventionally_ attractive than him, ones who actually spoke his first language and lived on the same continent… and yet, it was the last-placing, drunken Japanese man he couldn’t get off his mind.  
There was also the offer he had made: “ _Be my coach, Viktor!”_ But he was blind drunk when he said that. He couldn’t have been serious, could he? Nevertheless, Viktor did allow his mind to wander on occasion, to picture what a life without _him_ on the top skating podiums would be.

Viktor had also found himself back online, looking for a distraction. From what? He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t entirely clarify in his mind whether he was looking to forget his job, practice, Yakov… or Yuuri. But he found himself back on the skating forum, and remembering the connection he had made before.  
But Katsu92 was also nowhere to be found. They hadn’t spoken in nearing two months now, and Viktor chastised himself; there was a reason he kept his heart closed, and now he had allowed himself to long for three people in the past year. Chris, Katsu92, Yuuri… what did he want, other than to stop the ache in his soul?  
He browsed the vacuous forums, reading tedious conversations between strangers, and people he knew (or at least knew _of_ ) and found himself slumped, his head in his hands. What did he want? What did he want?

He rose, and stormed to the kitchen. He flipped on the coffee machine and noted the time on his oven: 7am. He had been up hours, even though he wasn’t training until later. There was a change in the schedule today, but apparently his body hadn’t got the memo.  
Viktor grabbed a mug down from the shelf and the milk from the fridge, placing the former under the machine as he heard a familiar _ding_ emanate from his Mac across the living room. He paused for a moment, then kicked the fridge door shut and quickly paced over to the source of the noise.  
He knew that tone all too well; he had only added one friend on this forum, and that noise signalled that they had logged on. But had he really heard it, or had his mind been playing tricks on him? He quickly pulled up the chat box: _Katsu92 **online  
**_ Before he had a moment to register what he was doing, he was tapping away on the keyboard:

**GoldSkate88:** KATSU! :O WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?

As he watched the message he had just typed send, he realised how desperate he had sounded. He had been gone for weeks, and hadn’t even said hi to him when he logged on, and now Viktor was here, demanding answers out of him. His fingers hovered above the keys, thinking about how to pull back the situation, when;

**Katsu92:** I want to see you.

Viktor was confused. As far as he knew, they were thousands of miles apart. Then he remembered his offer before Skate America.

**GoldSkate88:** I’m not in America anymore.

**Katsu92:** No, I want to see you. I want to know you.

**GoldSkate88:** What do you mean? You want a picture?

**Katsu92:** Yes.

Viktor quivered. This guy had suddenly come back from out of nowhere, and now he wanted to form a greater connection than before? He was dubious, but at the same time there was that nagging, clawing feeling inside him… that urge to be close to someone.  
He swallowed down his doubts, then quickly removed his t-shirt. He was under no illusions what kind of picture Katsu might have been looking for. He tilted the screen, snapped a photo with the webcam, and sent it before he could talk himself out of it.  
He waited for a response, but after several seconds, there was still nothing. He could see that the image had sent, and when he had talked himself into the fact that this guy probably wasn’t interested, he got up and went to retrieve his coffee. When he sat back down there was a message. 

**Katsu92:** Is that really you?

**GoldSkate8** **8** : Yes :S

**Katsu92** : Oh.

**GoldSkate88** : Oh?

**Katsu92** : I mean…

**Katsu92** : Good. No face?

**GoldSkate88** : Ah, well. It’s a bit difficult because of my job.

**Katsu92** : Famous?

Viktor smirked.

**GoldSkate88** :  Maybe. A little.

**GoldSkate88:** Your turn.

Would he be willing?

**Katsu92:** Gimme a sec.

That was a yes, then. Viktor sipped at the hot liquid, allowing it to waken his senses. It gave him some artificial sense of comfort. It was a little known fact that despite all of the charisma and confidence he could exude while performing, Viktor was actually extremely self-conscious.  
He didn’t have any body issues or anything; he knew he was physically at his peak. He had to be. But still, it wasn’t to everyone’s tastes.  
As he started to fall into thought once more, an attachment showed in the box, which he clicked on immediately. A new window appeared, and in front of him was a photo of a gorgeous body. It was tanned, with a small trail of dark hair on the stomach. It wasn’t as muscular as Viktor’s, but fit nonetheless, definitely somebody interested in some form of sport or working out. It almost looked familiar… and then he saw it. Behind the man’s angled body, there was a poster on the wall… a poster of _him.  
_ He blushed. This guy had actually sent him a photo with _him_ in the background. Viktor searched for a reaction, then realised that this other man didn’t actually know who he was speaking to. He didn’t know that he was talking to the poster on his wall.  
Viktor dampened down his pride. Okay, it’s rational. It makes sense. They met on a skating forum, the guy’s into skating, and Viktor was the top figure skater in the world. That was normal, wasn’t it? Maybe it was some young American up and coming in the sport.  
In any case, there was a body more directly in the picture and _far_ more interesting to look at. In fact, he had been looking at this picture for longer than anticipated. 

**GoldSkate88:** Sorry!

**GoldSkate88:** Almost forgot to respond. I may have stared a little too much.

**GoldSkate88:** Nice décor! ;)

**Kastu92** : Shit.

**Katsu92** : I didn’t see that when I took it.

**Katsu92** : Pretend you didn’t see that.

**GoldSkate88** : Really! You need to stop worrying so much. I was entirely too focused on something else anyway ;)

**Katsu92** : And what was that?

**GoldSkate88** : I can’t be certain, but it may have been something to do with the most delicious body I’ve ever seen being on screen.

**Katsu92** : Have you looked in a mirror recently?

Viktor felt like a teenager. It had been so long since he had had a conversation like this. He wasn’t _terrible_ at flirting, but he wasn’t entirely confident either, and he could feel his stomach dropping at the thought of where this might lead.

**GoldSkate88** : Have you? It is torturous to look on such splendour and not be able to touch.

**Katsu92** : Would you?

**GoldSkate88** : ?

**Katsu92** : Touch.

Viktor swallowed, shifting in his seat. He was still topless, and now he was wondering if he should take off his trousers too, given how tight they were becoming.

**GoldSkate88** : I would find it very difficult to be able to stop myself.

So why didn’t he show him? Katsu seemed to have been reciprocal to everything else so far; maybe he wouldn’t mind this….  
Viktor once again pulled up his webcam and positioned himself now so that the picture was the very lower half of his torso, his erection obvious and prominent. He thought it looked impressive enough and then sent it. He only had to wait a few moments for a response.

**Katsu92** : I spat out my beer. Literally.

Viktor laughed.

**GoldSkate88** : Haha! Sorry about that!

**Katsu92** : Facing a pretty similar situation here.

Oh God, Viktor wanted to know everything. He wanted to see. He wanted to touch.

**GoldSkate88** : Tell me more.

**Katsu92** : Well… it was a very nice picture you sent.

**GoldSkate88** : I still have yours up. May make it my wallpaper so I can stare at it all the time.

He did still have it up. And he was joking. He thought he was, anyway.

**Katsu92** : Stop!

**GoldSkate88** : Really. I wish I could touch you.

In between typing, Viktor’s hand was running over the fabric of his trousers on his thigh, desperate to touch himself, and trying his hardest to refrain.

**Katsu92** : Where?

**GoldSkate88** : Everywhere.

And it was true. Viktor looked at the picture and imagined himself running his hands down that body instead of his own thigh. He imagined the way the muscles would tense under his fingers and the goosebumps that he would try to elicit on the surface of Katsu’s skin as he nibbled and licked at his shoulder blades.

**Katsu92** : I guess I’ll need to do it for you just now then.

That was too much for Viktor to bear, and now his hand was on his cock, stroking himself through the dark but lightweight fabric. The friction was pleasurable, but nothing next to the thought of another hand on him. He allowed his eyes to close and imagined Katsu in his mind, before realising he was still supposed to be engaged in conversation.

**GoldSkate88** : …

**GoldSkate88** : You’re driving me crazy.

**Katsu92** : How so?  
  
Viktor would have told him, but at this point he was focusing all concentration on trying to remember English _and_ type with one hand while undoing his trousers and finding his way inside his boxers to finally touch his smooth skin with the other.

**GoldSkate88** : It’s hard to type with one hand.

**Katsu92** : Where’s the other?

**GoldSkate88** : Wishing It was on you.

**Katsu92** : I wish that too.

**GoldSkate88** : I wish you were touching me too.

**Katsu92** : I am. Can’t you feel me?

Viktor had now managed to slide his lower clothing down to his knees and was stroking himself in earnest, imagining the hands that weren’t his own touching him, running over the ripples of his chest, his hands not around his own dick, but Katsu’s…

**GoldSkate88** : Yes. Can you feel me?

**Katsu92** : Definitely.

More. He needed more.

**GoldSkate88** : What am I doing?

**Katsu92** : Stroking me, shoulders to hips. Kissing my neck.

It turned Viktor on that what he was describing was exactly Viktor’s style. It made it so much easier to imagine. He raised his hand to his mouth and spat before returning its attention.

**GoldSkate88** : Your body is beautiful. I love your collarbones.

**Katsu92** : Where do you want me to touch you?

Viktor thought, as his hand allowed itself to wander over his body during the break from typing. He flicked at his right nipple and sparks flew behind his eyes.

**GoldSkate88** : Nipples.

**Katsu92** : Good. That’s where I am.

**Katsu92** : I’m using my mouth, licking and nibbling at your chest.

Viktor’s grip tightened around himself.

**GoldSkate88** : Yes!

**Katsu92** : I’m sliding up your body. You feel me pressed against you.

**GoldSkate88** : You’re so hard.

**Katsu92** : You have no idea.

Viktor moaned aloud, focusing solely on what he was doing, images of the other man flooding his head, touching him, licking him… he pinched at a nipple again and his stomach knotted. He wished that he could be speaking to him right now.

**GoldSkate88** : Tell me you’re thinking about me.

**Katsu92** : I am definitely thinking about you. Are you thinking about me?

**GoldSkate88** : I can’t get you out of my head.

**Katsu92** : Good. Don’t stop.

He didn’t. Viktor allowed his pace to reach its peak, and he knew that he was reaching the edge.

**GoldSkate88** : You feel too good. I’m losing it over here.

**Katsu92** : Harder.

Another moan, this time louder.

**GoldSkate88** : I can’t hold on much longer.

**Katsu92** : You feel so good. I’m close…

Oh God, yes,

**GoldSkate88** : Katsu I’m going to

**Katsu92** : Yes

**GoldSkate88** : I’m

Viktor moaned out, pulling his hand quickly from the keyboard down to grasp at his balls, and angled his dick in towards his stomach just in time to watch himself spill over the pale skin. His eyes tightened shut as he rode out the sensation, all of the images still playing in his mind.  
He stayed that way for several minutes, pacing his breathing and allowing himself to come back down from whatever plane his body had escaped to. Once firmly back on terra firma, he grabbed several tissues from the box nearby and began to clean himself. He got up and washed his hands in the kitchen sink, then went back to the chat.

**GoldSkate88** : Are you okay, baby?

He was in that post-orgasm phase of realisation, and was worried that the other man may not be feeling as euphoric as he was right now. He needed to check in.

**Katsu92** : Yes. I’ve just… never done anything like that before.

Well, he certainly hadn’t seemed innocent when they were talking.

**GoldSkate88** : Was it okay?

**Katsu92** : More than okay. Good.

**GoldSkate88** : I’m glad.

**Katsu92** : For you?

**GoldSkate88** : A bit more than good ;)

For now, at least, Viktor was feeling more optimistic, and the crushing weight on his chest had eased up. Whether it was just releasing some of the sexual tension he had been bottling up, or whether it was because of Katsu himself, he felt truly happy.  
He and Katsu chatted for a while, and then Viktor realised that he should probably shower up before he left.

**GoldSkate88** : I really did miss you.

**Katsu92** : I’m sorry. I missed you too.

**GoldSkate88** : I have to go :(

**Katsu92** : Okay. I should probably sleep anyway.

**GoldSkate88** : Sweet dreams, my Katsu <3

**Katsu92** : I doubt I could have anything but now. Until next time xxx

**GoldSkate88** : :) xxxxxxx

Viktor closed the chat box, more at ease than he usually felt, and headed for the bathroom.  
  


* * *

   
Viktor was decidedly happy.

Not because he had online sex with somebody, but because he finally had a connection with another human being that felt _real._ It was intimate, in all the ways he had been looking for. Finally, Viktor could see himself moving forward. He still wasn’t precisely sure what that meant, given that he still knew barely anything about this other person, and that they lived so far away from him, but he still allowed himself to feel the happiness in the moment for what it was.  
His chipperness had been grating on Yuri and Yakov, and he just laughed it off. Even Chris had commented on his tone when they spoke on the phone, but Viktor refused to divulge any details. As wonderful as Christophe was, even _he_ could be judgemental about meeting and beginning to fall for someone he had met online.

Viktor and Katsu had remained in conversation, but he had seemed a little stressed, and had admitted that a lot of changes were happening in his life right now, and apologised. He had nothing to apologise _for_ , of course, he was as wonderful as always.  
The biggest change had come from the fact that Katsu had changed time zones. He didn’t even divulge to Viktor where he was moving to, just said he was moving home and let him know the time difference. Viktor thought it was a little unusual, but nothing he concerned himself _too much_ about. It hadn’t seemed to affect the conversations they were having, particularly the one they had last night.  
Viktor made a mental note to buy new tissues as he sat down at the desk the next afternoon.

**Katsu92 has logged in**

**GoldSkate88:** Hello stranger ;)

**Katsu92:** Literally.

**GoldSkate88:** How are we?

**Katsu92:** Curious.

**GoldSkate88** : Curious?

**Katsu92** : Yes. I’d like to see you.

**GoldSkate88** : You’ve already seen me ;)

**Katsu92** : Your face.

Viktor’s heart dropped. He knew that he couldn’t do that. Of course he would love for things to progress between them, but Katsu would definitely know who he was if he were to see him, and then where would that leave him? His attitude toward him would change indefinitely. He was hoping that they could build more of a relationship before doing this.

**GoldSkate88** : :(

**Katsu92** : We can’t keep talking like this.

 Viktor could feel his throat dry immediately, and his eyes fill. No.

**GoldSkate88** : Why?

**Katsu92** : I’m too invested.

**GoldSkate88** : What do you mean?

**Katsu92** : I like you. I mean, I REALLY like you.

**GoldSkate88** : Oh.

He wanted to tell him that he really liked him too, that he didn’t want to lose what they had, that he had made him feel things he hadn’t for so long.

**Katsu92** : And I can’t allow myself to keep feeling like this.

He was right of course. This wasn’t fair to him. He was there thinking he was building a connection with someone who was reluctant to even show his face. What must he be wondering Viktor was keeping from him…

**GoldSkate88** : I might put you off.

**Katsu92** : I doubt that.

Viktor knew that feeling. There was very little he felt Katsu could reveal right now that would throw into question the way he felt about him. But maybe it would be okay? Maybe he would accept the Viktor that sat in front of him, that had been talking to him all this time, and they could continue on as they were? Could they…?

**GoldSkate88** : :|

**GoldSkate88** : I want something from you too.

**Katsu92** : Sure.

**GoldSkate88** : Your name.

**Katsu92** : Deal.

**GoldSkate88** : :)

**GoldSkate88** : Well?

**Katsu92** : Yūri.

There was no way. What were the chances of that? Granted, Viktor lived in Russia and Юрий wasn’t such an uncommon name, but he knew that everywhere else it wasn’t as common. He already knew of Yuuri Katsuki… and now there was somebody else out there, living abroad, that he was speaking to, called Yuuri as well? It seemed more than coincidental.

**GoldSkate88** : You’re kidding.

**Katsu92** : No?

**GoldSkate88** : Seriously?

**Katsu92** : Yes! Why?!

**GoldSkate88** : A few Yuri’s in my life recently. That’s all :) I was just surprised.

**Katsu92** : I see.

**GoldSkate88** : So, are you sure about this?

**Katsu92** : Will you tell me your name after, too?

Viktor smiled nervously, recalling the picture in Yuuri’s bedroom.

**GoldSkate88** : That won’t be necessary.

Viktor grabbed a picture of himself from his desktop and quickly dropped it into the chat box. It was an eventuality he was just going to have to face, he decided. He was nervous about Yuuri’s reaction, and yet he still couldn’t prepare himself for the reality.

**Katsu92** : THAT’S NOT FUNNY!

**GoldSkate88** : It’s not meant to be funny.

**Katsu92** : Even after me telling you how I felt about you?! Even after telling you my name?!

**GoldSkate88** : I don’t understand :(

**Katsu92** : What? Did you send it to mock me because of the first picture I sent you?!

And then it hit him. Yuuri didn’t believe it was him.

**GoldSkate88** : No! Of course not! Yuuri, that’s me!

And then the chat closed.

**Katsu92 _offline_**

Viktor didn’t know what to do. He spent the rest of the afternoon pacing around his flat, Makka initially following him, confused, as if this were some funny new exercise, then eventually settling down on the sofa to simply follow with his eyes.  
Eventually, Viktor decided to shower, thinking that it may clear his head. But despite his wishes, salty tears rolled down his face. He should have seen it coming. He should have known that who he was would be a curse; it always was. He couldn’t have a relationship with anybody. He would always be alone.

He spent a long time thinking about what it was he wanted again… and time after time he came to the same conclusion. He didn’t want to be alone. There was something here, between he and Yuuri. He knew it; he could feel it. And so, after drying himself and placing on a robe, he picked up his phone and tapped out a message.

**GoldSkate88** : Yuuri, I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.

**GoldSkate88** : Please, let’s talk. I have Skype.

**Katsu92** : I haven’t decided yet. Give me your username.

**GoldSkate88** : v-nikiforov88

Viktor sat down at his desk and stared straight through the screen. He already had the application open, and he stared, waiting, hoping for a call.

It was ringing. For a moment, Viktor almost hit the red ‘decline’ button, despite having suggested the situation, but then he found himself hovering over and clicking on the green, his nerves calming. But nothing could have prepared him for what he would see.

The window came up, and there was silence. In front of Viktor, several thousand miles away, sat the beautiful and yet completely gobsmacked face of Yuuri Katsuki.  
Viktor’s jaw fell open, colour ran from his face, and he felt wetness on his lashes once more. After a moment, he attempted speech, but his voice felt heavy, catching in his throat.

“K-katsuki?”

The man on the other end of the line said nothing, still staring straight into him and looking like he might cry himself.

“You’re Katsuki Yuuri…”

It was all he could think to say.

“You’re Viktor Nikiforov…”

Now, he believed him. Maybe now he could see.  
Viktor smiled, partly in relief that he wasn’t being yelled at down the phone, but mostly because it was Yuuri. Yuuri _Katsuki_. The two men he had fallen for were in fact one man; the most wonderful man he had ever met.

“Yes.”

In the silence that ensued, they gazed in wonderment at each other, each studying everything they could about the person on the other end of the line. Yuuri looked sleepy and distraught, his eyes red, his hair a mess, and wearing a dark T-Shirt in what appeared to be a room cast in low light in the middle of the night.

“You remembered me? From the Grand Prix?”

Viktor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. How could he have?

“Yuuri, it’s been impossible to forget you.”

Yuuri’s eyes fell, and he clenched his jaw in what looked to be embarrassment. Viktor swallowed, and allowed himself to take a chance.

“I was attracted to you the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Yuuri looked up, shocked.

"I know you slipped, but your form is  _incredible_. I was drawn to you straight away. I didn't understand how it had taken you so long to place when you skate so beautifully. I mean, likely its Celestino. He's an alright coach, but I'm not sure you fit each other very well. And then, when I saw you at the banquet I couldn't take my eyes off you. I've been thinking about you ever since. Truth be told, I was extremely guilty... I had formed this bond with whoever I was speaking to online, and I was beginning to really like them, but then I saw you and everything changed. But you're both of them! It's more than I could ever dream of! And I am so sorry if I-"

"Viktor: everything before… was all _you_?”

And suddenly Viktor remembered everything. The conversations they had had. The _pictures_ they had sent. The _way_ they spoke to each other. He tried to marry it in his mind with the pictures that flashed through his memory from the banquet. He had wanted him so badly then… and now he had gotten him (in some small part) without even realising it.  
The room felt entirely too hot.

“Yes.”

“From the beginning?”

“Yes.”

“When you travelled for work… you were at Skate America?”

“Yes. Truly at that point I was falling for you that I thought I could deal with whatever came of revealing my identity to you. But it just wasn’t meant to be at that time, I guess.”

“That picture I sent you… the background…”

Oh, _of course!_ Yuuri had a poster, of _him_ , in his _bedroom_. Viktor was pleased, he wanted to talk about _that_ further, but he could see that Yuuri was embarrassed and in need of reassurance.

“Yuuri, you’re a champion figure skater. As conceited as it may sound, it’s not unusual for skating fans and skaters alike to have pictures of myself and other top podium placers.”

Yuuri looked somewhat relieved, but he now was struggling to keep focus, his eyes wandering anxiously. Viktor had seen him like this before; it reminded him of the beginning of the banquet, before the champagne, before the _dancing_.

“I’m so happy to see you. And I really am sorry. Can you forgive me for not telling you sooner?”

“What? Of course! I’m the one who should be sorry! I just really couldn’t believe that would really be you. I’m really sorry, Viktor.”

Viktor smiled at how flustered he was. He was relieved, and everything he said was true. He was so incredibly happy; he still couldn’t believe his luck. If only they had known from the beginning who each other were; what might have happened then? There was no point thinking about it. But now, Viktor wanted to throw himself into the man. He wanted everything that Yuuri could give him.

“Let’s stop apologising to each other. Now that I know who you are, I want to get to know you fully. Tell me everything about yourself, Yuuri.”

And then they talked. They talked and talked. They shared, they laughed, and Viktor even cried a little when Yuuri told him about his dog that had died just before the Grand Prix. No wonder he was in such a state. Viktor thought about what he might do without Makka, then quickly filed it away to the back of his mind. That was something he did _not_ want to deal with yet.  
Viktor could _feel_ Yuuri opening up to him more and more, and he could see the man that he had been speaking to – Katsu – come to life in person in front of him. And it was wonderful.

Suddenly Viktor became aware of how cold it was, and the fact that he had been sat in nothing but a robe in his chilly St Petersburg flat for a long while now.

“Prosti, Yuuri. It’s cold. I need to change.”

Viktor stood up and removed his robe, retrieving the clothes he had left on the stool. His face was no longer in shot, but he gave a cursory glance to make sure there was nothing else untoward on screen. There wasn’t. But what did happen to be on screen were the eyes of Katsuki Yuuri, fixed on whatever image was in front of him, his jaw slack, then swallowing hard.

“I can still see you, you know”, Viktor teased.

He pulled on a plum cashmere sweater, then bent to slide into his favourite grey sweatpants.

“That’s better.”

He sat back down, winking at the still blushing Yuuri.

“Something I said?

“N-no… Nothing! I mean…”

Viktor was clearly better at this than Yuuri. Yuuri was trying to come up with excuses, while Viktor had already registered everything that was running through both of their minds. It certainly was amusing how different this Yuuri was to the drunken one he had had more one-on-one experience with.  
He smirked, then pulled off his sweater and launched it somewhere behind him.

“Would you feel more comfortable if I was like this?”

“I thought you were cold.”

“Not anymore. Your face looks a little flushed, Yuuri. Are you warm too?”

“A little.”

“Well, please, don’t let me stop you from making yourself comfortable.”

Which of course, was Viktor silently _begging_ Yuuri to make himself more “comfortable”. Yuuri glanced down at his top, then slowly pulled it off, revealing the expanse of tanned skin underneath, holding more weight than before but still utterly irresistible. Viktor’s head subconsciously cocked to the side and a small moan escaped his mouth, but thankfully he was sure it was too quiet to be perceived.   
Looking at the body in front of him, Viktor couldn’t help but turn his mind to the previous night, when GoldSkate and Katsu had entered in to a particularly steamy session. But to think about the fact that it was Yuuri… it was enough to drive him crazy.  
He tried to straighten his face when the now shirtless Yuuri looked back to him.

“So I was thinking about last night”, Viktor revealed.

“W-what about it?”

“How incredible it is that it was Yuuri Katsuki talking to me like that.”

His hand ran down his thigh, purposefully trying to avoid any hasty reactions… biding his time. He thought about the first time they had spoken like that, how Viktor had been releasing tension to what he thought was practically a stranger.

“I’m sorry I made you spit out your beer. A tragedy!”

He laughed, and noted the small glimpse of what turned out to be Yuuri’s body behind the Skype window of his computer, his long fingers dancing slowly to where he desperately wanted to touch.

“For the record, I _did_ make it my wallpaper.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to stop looking at it. It did cause some problems though. I couldn’t concentrate.”

He couldn’t stop now. The culmination of all his thoughts, all of his desires were too much to bear, and he began to run elegant fingertips over his hardened length through the fabric of his sweatpants. When he would start fully, with Yuuri’s face in front of him, he wouldn’t be able to stop. It wasn’t helped by the fact that Yuuri appeared to be shifting uncomfortably in his seat right now, and Viktor was sure that he was thinking something similar.  
Yuuri’s eyelashes fluttered, just a little, and Viktor sighed heavily, his hand now pulling down his trousers and wrapping around himself, allowing himself to give in to pleasure, as he was sure Yuuri was.

“What are you doing?”

Viktor could have asked the Japanese man the same question, what with his flushed cheeks and heavy lids.

“I’ll show you if you like.”

Yuuri turned a deeper shade of red and his eyes clenched shut. This was the same man that had jumped at him, wrapped his arms around him, and begged him to be his coach? And yet here he was, completely, adorably shy in front of him, even despite how he talked via message just last night.

“Yuuri… I _will_ show you. But you have to _ask._ ”

Viktor managed to make it sound sexy, somehow, but primarily he was concerned about how Yuuri was feeling right now. If this really wasn’t something he wanted to be doing, Viktor would never force him to.

“Please.”

That’s more like it.

“Please what, Yuuri?”

“…P-please show me, Viktor.”

Viktor pushed his chair back and angled the camera, allowing Yuuri to see everything. He didn’t stop stroking himself, just slowed, allowing Yuuri to take in the full view as his hand worked carefully up… and down.

“Your turn.”

Yuuri blushed, but stood, nevertheless, and Viktor saw that he was wearing plaid pyjama bottoms, which he found completely endearing… and then Yuuri turned himself at an angle, and Viktor was sure his jaw had just hit the floor.

“ _Fuck”_ Viktor whispered, louder than he had intended.

How had Yuuri been hiding _that_?!   
Viktor’s fist clenched around himself, incredibly turned on at the effect he’d had on the other man, the site of it on his massive screen being particularly pleasant. Yuuri hooked a finger into the waistband and pulled down, revealing a smattering of black hair, then he stopped.

“Please…” Viktor found himself begging.

Yuuri encouraged the elastic further downwards, and a sleek head bobbed over the surface, scar tissue revealing itself most prominently on the frenulum.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I just… I didn’t expect… you to be cut.”

It was certainly something new to Viktor, something he hadn’t seen outside of porn.

“Problem?”

“No. _Definitely_ no problem.”

“Phimosis as a kid.”

Viktor shuddered a little at the thought.

“My poor Yuuri…”

Yuuri’s pyjamas were pulled right down now, and he began to stroke himself, driving Viktor wild. Yuuri’s length was huge, and all in all, he looked completely delectable. Viktor imagined how it might have been had Yuuri not been so drunk at the banquet.  
Yuuri seated himself once more, moving the webcam with him so it was still pointed directly at his crotch.

“Yuuri, I can’t see your face…”

Viktor moaned as he stroked himself. He wanted to see this beautiful man, all of him, stunning face included. Too long had it been hidden from him.  
Yuuri adjusted the angle of the camera, then reached over to something out of sight, returning a moment later with clear liquid on his fingers and smoothing it over the length of his flesh, tilting his head back in pleasure in a way Viktor could stare at forever.

“Yuuri, you are so _beautiful_. I wish I were with you right now… so badly…”

“Doing what?” Yuuri whispered.

It was the first time Yuuri had spoken in a while, and it was like music to Viktor’s ears. Clearly Viktor was expected to say something here relating to the actions both men were currently undertaking by themselves, but the truth was that Viktor had been longing for something else.

“I want to kiss you. I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long. I want to kiss you and feel the whole world melt away. I would kiss you, long and deep, and make you forget everyone else in the world existed.”

“Nobody else does exist.”

The response had shocked Viktor, warmed his heart, and turned him on immensely simultaneously. His need for Yuuri was continuing to build, but so was his pace, and seeing Yuuri the way he was right now was more than he could have ever dreamed of. He smiled, his eyes closed.

“Look at me, Viktor”, Yuuri demanded suddenly. “Don’t take your eyes off me.”

Viktor opened his eyes, falling into the now dominating gaze that Yuuri held, and felt his stomach twist in that old familiar way. He was pulling at himself, twisting firmly, and every time the tips of his fingers brushed over his head he felt sparks behind his eyes.  
He could see Yuuri enacting the same movement as they stared each other down, both of their dicks leaking and flushed, and Viktor wished more than ever that he could see it in person. That he could hold him and kiss him and make him come with his own hands…

“Yuuri… I’m close…”

“I’m with you. I’m right there, Viktor.”

Yuuri bit down on his lip, and Viktor melted into his own touch, feeling the pressure build from within him…

“I wish my lips were wrapped around that right now. I bet you taste delicious.”

Viktor’s hips bucked as he shouted out, angling himself just in time to watch come fall onto his stomach.

“ _Ugh!”_

Viktor’s eyes darted back to the screen just in time to watch Yuuri’s brow furrow and head throw back as he released, coming all over his chest and hands. It was the sexiest thing Viktor had ever seen, and both of them took their time recovering. Staring at the states they had gotten themselves into as they breathed out the last pangs of pleasure.

“ _Wow”_ , Viktor found himself saying.

He saw that familiar worried expression creep across Yuuri’s face, and watched as he tilted the camera away from his crotch, embarrassed. Viktor laughed unintentionally, and grabbed for the tissues on the desk, as he watched Yuuri reach for what was presumably the same off camera.  
After he was finished and mostly clean (other than a shower could manage, anyway), he allowed himself to speak, asking the question that had been niggling in the back of his mind.

“Prosti, Yuuri. I have to ask.”

“Yes?”

“Is it only me?”

“Viktor… it’s only _ever_ been you.”

And with that, a word crept into Viktor’s head. A word he had been avoiding, not allowing himself to get carried away. A word that scared him…

_Любить_.  
  


* * *

 

_  
And so Viktor found himself sat in the bitter Russian air, for perhaps the last time in he didn’t know how long. He sighed deeply, then stood from the bench and made his way back up to the flat, Makka bounding ahead in front of him._

_He sat down at his desk, but this time it wasn’t the forum he was on. It wasn’t Skype. He wasn’t there to talk to Yuuri or Katsu or anyone else (there was no one else)._

_He pulled up the Aeroflot website and searched:_

_Leaving today… flights from Pulkovo to Fukuoka._

_***_

**Author's Note:**

> “誰が今敗者ですか?” - Who is the loser now?
> 
> "Ba...ka!" - Loser/idiot
> 
> "Лузер..." - Loser
> 
> 'нет, это было определенно…' - No, it was definitely...
> 
> "愛してる" - I love you
> 
> 'Лубить' - love
> 
> "Prosti" - sorry


End file.
